


Zygomata

by grizzly_bear_bane



Series: Cigar Box [7]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Homelessness, M/M, References to Underage Prostitution, Soulmates, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grizzly_bear_bane/pseuds/grizzly_bear_bane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames and Arthur cuddle in the sleeping bag during a rainy Sunday morning in Yusuf's flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zygomata

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The rains seem intent to carry on through to September. All the streets are filled with dark puddles, the drains clogged with runoff and trash. When the wind kicks up, raindrops slip under the window Eames has partially open, wetting the old sill and his ashtray.

Last night, someone overdosed in one of the tweakers' cots in the room downstairs. Even Yusuf is quiet as he and his young college girlfriend hole themselves up in his bedroom. The squatters and junkies in that room on the floor below mourn by using the rest of the dead woman’s drugs. Nash, surprisingly, is nowhere to be found. An admission, most will say, once they’re a little sober, that it was his supply that killed her.

In spite of staying indoors, away from the rain, Arthur’s been coughing on and off for the last few days, wheezing a little when he sleeps, and congested in the mornings. Eames keeps him bundled up with him in the sleeping bag, a bottle of cold medicine in the backpack, just in case it gets worse.

Arthur lays his head on the hard chest under him, the teddy bear Eames won for him at the beach tucked under his arm. He listens to the rhythmic beat of his heart, riding on the soft rise and fall of Eames' chest as he breathes. “Eames?”

“Hm?”

“When was the first time you killed someone?”

Arthur’s not quite sure what he’s expecting. Eames is a blunt enough man, when he wants to be. There have been times in the past, questions that fall from Arthur’s lips in quiet moments like this one, that receive only silence, or a warning.

Eames plucks the skinny joint from behind his ear and lights it. He leans his head toward the window when he blows smoke, always mindful to keep it away from Arthur. He’s quiet for so long that Arthur thinks he won’t get an answer. “Thirteen.”

Arthur's shock is fleeting. “What happened?”

Eames takes a moment to enjoy his weed before he explains, his voice low, relaxed. “Mum’s boytoy was an up-and-coming gangster who hit her in her face once. According to Richie, she deserved it. He had the fucking nerve to tell me this when I was in the car with him that evening after it happened. Lovely car, too. Old school Impala. A classic. Anyways, he goes into the bar to deliver money to his boss, some wannabe Mafioso-type. I punctured one of the tires, he returns, pops open the boot, preparing to hook up the spare, and..." he takes a deep, long drag, exhaling as he says, "I bashed his head in with the fucking wrench. His boss was livid, so I got Richie’s gun out of his belt and killed him too. His enemies were pretty impressed. So was mum when I told her about the job opening the new boss gave me for my good work.”

“Wow,” Arthur breathes. Of course a man like Eames would be born tough and brazen. “What was it like?”

"Killing?"

Arthur nods his head on his chest.

Eames ponders this for a while, before he answers. “Like looking up at the night sky and demanding the sun to come up and it does. Unparalleled power, and mystery, because…what _is_ life, you know? What is that impossible to see, impossible to feel thing you release from the man you’ve just fired a bullet through? But then once you’ve done it a couple times, that mystery fades and it becomes just…work, until it’s personal. Then it’s something totally different.” His arm around Arthur’s back hugs him tighter as he kisses the top of Arthur’s head.

“How many men have you killed?”

Arthur’s definitely sure he won’t get an answer to this, but after a long while, Eames speaks. “For myself? Hard to tell. Working with Yusuf? Eighteen.”

Arthur listens to Eames' heart beat soft and steady in his chest. “Why?”

Eames puffs out more smoke. “Because sometimes, people won’t take words like “no,” “please,” and “now” as seriously as they should. Or in most cases, because they want to kill you first.”

Arthur sits up in Eames’ lap, studying him. He’s only ever seen him toke less than a handful of times since they met. He eyes him for a long moment, watching the wind outside carrying most of the smoke through the window. “Eames?”

“Hm?”

“Can I try it?”

“Nope.”

“Please?” He bounces a little in his lap. “What?”

Eames is frowning, looking from Arthur to the joint. “Just having that moment when I at last see how terrible of an influence I am on you.”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Eames. One time. Knowing you, you probably won’t smoke this shit again until I’m fifty. Please?”

Eames sighs. “Fine, _but_ , let me show you how—”

“I know how.”

“You do, huh?”

He shrinks back from Eames’ look. “No. Just kidding.” And in truth, he’s right, because it’s not like smoking a cigarette. Eames laughs at him as he chokes on it.

“That’s precious,” Eames teases.

“You didn’t tell me what to do. Give me a minute, okay?”

Eames plucks it from Arthur’s hand. “I love you, boy, but if you waste my fucking weed, I’m putting you out on the streets.”

“That’s not funny, asshole. Let me try again.”

“Nope. That was your one time.” He closes his eyes as he inhales and smirks. “Go on,” he says, his voice tight as he exhales, “get angry if you want. You know it makes my dick hard seeing you pout.”

“I’m going to punch your dick if you don’t let me have anymore.” He tries not to smile and fails.

Eames cracks up. “And I will punch _your face_ if you do that. You little shit.” He grins, watching Arthur laugh. “Threatening me with these puny fist. Oh, so scary, Arthur. Wait, hang on.” He takes one of Arthur hands and looks at it closely. He measures it against his own hand. “Well, I’ll be damned, Arthur. Look at that.”

Arthur doesn’t see what Eames sees. “What?”

“Someone’s had a growth spurt, at the ripe old age of sixteen—No, sorry, I mean sixteen _and in a half_ , respectively. _Fucking finally_ , Arthur. You had me convinced that it was never going to happen. Stand up. Let me look at you proper.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and gets to his feet after Eames plucks his ear.

“Take your sweater and shorts off. How did I miss this before? Bloody hell, Arthur, look!”

He twists around. “What?”

“You have an ass! You have an honest-to-god ass now!”

“Shut up, Eames.” Arthur’s whole face is red as he self-consciously tries to look at his own butt.

“A _really_ nice one, at that. Come here, come here!” Eames waves, excitedly.

“Why, is your dick hard?”

“Come sit on it and find out for yourself, kitty cat.”

He does, and Eames is.

Eames takes another long hit from the joint, before his hand slides around Arthur’s hips to pat his cheeks under his underwear. Arthur grins again, shaking his head at Eames.

Eames looks up at him, biting his lip for a second. Arthur can’t help but kiss him—and try to take the joint out of Eames’ hand.

“You sneaky little cunt,” Eames chuckles. “Fine. Open your mouth.”

Arthur recoils a bit. “If you try to put ash in my mouth, I’ll—”

“Oh, stop it. Just open your mouth, and when you get it, breathe deep, and hold it. Ready?”

Arthur eyes him suspiciously as Eames take a deep hit from the joint and quickly sits up more to let it go in Arthur’s mouth. Arthur holds it, looking to Eames for a sign of when to breathe. He exhales, slow and careful.

Eames does it several times. He lies back against the pillows to watch Arthur exhale, his chest rising and falling as he breathes above him. “Feel anything?”

Arthur tilts his head. “Hm.” He smiles, nodding slowly. “Tiny bit.”

“Good. That’s all you need.”

Arthur’s head stays tilted as he watches Eames smoke.  

Eames frowns after a while. “Fuck, I’m going to have to keep my eye on you all the time now. You were dealing with kiddie creeps before, but now, Arthur, you’ve moved into the attention zone of a whole new kind of man.”

“You think I could really start to make a lot of money now?” Eames ought to be the very last person to ask something like that to, but it tumbles out of Arthur’s mouth anyways. “I mean,” he shrugs, looking out the window, “I’ll be seventeen soon.”

“Hm.”

“Come on, Eames.”

“I know, I know,” Eames mutters. The smoke blows out through his nose like he’s a cartoon bull. He flicks the butt of the joint out of the window, sullen. “I just fucking hate every single man on the planet who looks at you, let alone tries to fuck you.”

“So do I. I don’t actually want to fuck any of them, but what else is there? I can read all the books until my eyes fall out or my brain explodes, but it’s not going to buy us food.”

“I’m working.”

“I know that. You’re money’s going to get us a place to live, Eames, remember? But in the meantime, we need backup cash in case… In case we end up under the overpass during fucking monsoon season again and Yusuf’s not around.” He smiles. “Besides, I love _you_. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Having your heart exclusively is lovely, kitty cat, but I’d like to have what’s between your legs exclusively as well.” He sighs again. “But, I know you. I’m not an idiot. It’s clear that you’re never going to stop jumping into men’s cars, so… What are we going to do about it?”

Arthur splays his hands on Eames’ chest, looking at him through his lashes as he thinks of a workable solution. “I’ll only do it every couple of days so I can keep studying? And… You could help me. Be nearby in case…”

“In case some nutter comes after you with a fucking nail gun again?” Eames sighs. “You are not to open your legs to anyone on this side of the city, no shipyard, no drunks, no junkies, no cars with tinted windows, nobody’s ‘friends,’ and certainly nobody who looks strong enough to take me down if there’s trouble, understood?”

“Yes, Mr. Eames.”

At last Eames nods. “Just don’t get pissed at me when I destroy every single one of them.”

“Just the crazies, Eames.”

“All of them.”

“Eames.”

Eames glares for a second and huffs. “If only your brain was as big as your heart sometimes, kitty cat. Alright, fine. I’ll stay near, make sure you get around safe and whatnot.”

Arthur sighs, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.” A weight has been lifted. Arthur leans down to press soft kisses over Eames’ frowning face. Eames won’t say it, but Arthur knows he’s relieved too. Once Arthur’s on his feet, when the rains pass, he won’t have to lie anymore and Eames won’t have to worry constantly about him. It works. “This is going to work out, Mr. Eames. I know it will. And someday, we won’t have to do what we’re doing to get by anymore. We’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

“Hm. I’d like you a lot more if you didn’t argue.”

Arthur chuckles, shaking his head. “And I’d like you a lot more if you smoked weed more than once a century. You’re relaxed like this, and _nice_.”

“Then I need to stop smoking forever, then.” Eames nods.

“No, you need to stop killing your high with you attitude and just cuddle with me.” Arthur rubs his face on Eames’ chest and kisses his face again until he gets a small grin out of Eames and the return of big hands stroking his thighs and hips. “See? Much better.”

“You’re legs are so long now,” Eames muses, mostly to himself. “You’re lovely, Arthur.”

Arthur beams. “I’m growing up.”

“Mhm,” Eames grins softly again, “but you will always have super cute little baby dimples when you smile, kitten.”

Arthur tries not to smile more as Eames digs his thumbs into his cheeks, but he can’t help it. “Stop it, Eames! That feels weird!”

“Come here, you.” He rolls them both, trapping Arthur on his back under him. His hands cover and smush Arthur’s face before he kisses each cheek, loving Arthur’s laugh.

Arthur squirms under him. He twists one of Eames’ nipples to free himself.

“Ow, you little shit!” Eames flips Arthur on his stomach and brings his hand down on his ass hard, making Arthur yelp. “You’ll fucking pay for that.”

“No, Eames! No! I surrender! I’m sorry!” He tries to scramble away, but Eames has both of his ankles trapped under his arm, tickling the bottom of his feet mercilessly.

“Serves you right. My whole tit hurts now.” Eames smacks Arthur’s ass again before letting go of his legs. He pulls him back onto his lap to kiss him even as both of them can’t stop laughing.

“I don’t like you anymore. You play too dirty.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t like you at all, period.”

“That’s not what your dick is saying right now.” Arthur grinds down in his lap, smirking.

Eames hums. “Of course not. My cock doesn’t give a fuck about what else is going on. It’s wonderfully smushed under your fat ass right now.”

“I should stop then.”

“Nope, get back here.”

Arthur yelps, laughing again when Eames tackles him.

Eames squeezes his waist, kissing a line up Arthur’s neck to his jaw. He mutters, “Now, if you want to know what my dick is really saying, we can have that arranged, relatively quickly.”

Arthur grins, nuzzling Eames’ stubble until he can catch his lips. He’s still soft when Eames pulls off his underwear, but he holds his legs open, pulled to his chest, and waits for Eames to find the little capsule of lube in the backpack. He leans up to keep teasing Eames’s lips, panting into his mouth once the first finger is pushed in.

He hasn’t been hooking for almost two weeks and so far, he’s been sober for a month. He loves that only Eames has touched him, loves that his mind and body are slowly but surely reprogramming, fixing what the drugs have damaged. He can feel so much of Eames now. It’s always a little breathtaking; the absence of anxiety. Eames is happy and Arthur’s happy. What could be a better high than that?

His head falls back against the frayed pillow as he keens on a second finger, his legs spread higher and wider apart for Eames. He watches those fingers slide, gripping them, hungry for a wider stretch and Eames gives it to him, his third finger bringing a soft gasp to Arthur’s lips. “One more,” he pants, and moans into Eames’ mouth on the fourth. His body doesn’t want to take Eames past his knuckles. That tightness, and the quirk of pain in Arthur’s brow, his lips parted, when Eames does press deeper sparks a rattling, bestial sound in Eames’ chest that makes Arthur shiver.

Eames withdraws, carefully, stroking the back of Arthur’s thigh and his perineum. Arthur watches him bathe his cock in lube and bites his lip when Eames starts to push in, inch by inch. Eames groans, his eyes closed, a hand braced on the floor and the other gently holding Arthur’s waist. He starts to move, long, slow strokes that test the waters and tease, pushing each little gasp and sigh, each soft moan from Arthur’s lungs when their bodies connect.

Eames is focused on the feeling, of Arthur’s heat and his passage stretched around him, taking all of him. “So good, baby,” he pants, looking down at Arthur with fond eyes. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Arthur keeps his hands firmly under his knees, keeping himself open for Eames. Eames’ sweat rolls down his inner thighs when his knees touch the man's ribs. “More.”

Eames thrusts a little harder, pushing Arthur's back against the pillow. “Does it hurt?”

It always does, so deep and full, but Arthur knows a good burn from a bad one and this one is heaven. He bites his bottom lip as he’s rocked a little by Eames’ hips. He nods.

Eames strokes slower again, rubbing Arthur’s hips, his legs. He circles stiff nipples with his thumbs until Arthur shoos his hands away from his chest. 

“Is that better, baby?” Eames whispers.

Arthur moans his approval, savoring this careful glide. He loves when Eames overwhelms him, wrings him out and leaves him bruised, owned, but they don’t often have moments like this, where stress and aggression make way for just…easy, carefree lovemaking; sharing a body, sharing a heartbeat and the air right out of each other’s mouths. Each touch as soft as the pitter-patter of raindrops on the window’s glass when the wind kicks up, every little moan and sigh like words of praise.

Arthur lets go of his legs so he can touch Eames and rock his hips to meet him, undulating and grinding, enjoying the shiver it sends up Eames’ spine. He strokes his cock to Eames' pace, making his body hotter.

Eames sits back, his eyes locked with Arthur’s, his hands on Arthur’s hips to hold him steady as he pushes his cock over Arthur’s prostate. His head falls back as Arthur’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist. “So lovely, baby, keep singing.”

Arthur does, feeling his body grow taut as he strokes himself faster, and begs Eames for more, knowing Eames that will give him exactly what he needs.

Eames’ thrusts become shallow, quicker, focused on that spot as Arthur’s moans, rolling his hips. Eames’ hand covers Arthur’s, stroking him together until Arthur spills on his and Eames’ stomachs and joined hands, his body clenching, coaxing Eames to follow.

Arthur locks their wet fingers together, his other hand on Eames’ wrist by his head as Eames drives, slow and steady again, savoring Arthur’s body until the very end.

Eames is quiet when he comes, his lips hovering, their kiss stalled.

Arthur squeezes around him as he pulls out carefully and rolls Arthur on top of him. He kisses Eames’ chest, his neck, his face.

His hands slide under Eames’ back as he lays his head on that hard chest again, the teddy completely forgotten now, lost under their blankets and pillows. He listens to Eames’ heart settle. Arthur rubs his chest and bicep when Eames’ arms circle his shoulders.

“Eames?”

“Hm?”

“When was the first time you fell in love with someone?” He can sense Eames smile even though his own eyes are closed.

It takes Eames no time at all to answer. “Twenty.”

Arthur smiles against his chest, blushing a little. “What happened?”

“Well…the fucking psycho jumped on my back and kissed my cheek just because I gave him a cheap little box. Pretty weird, right?”

The arms around Arthur hold him tighter. He kisses Eames’ chest. “Hm. Definitely weird.”

“Mhm.”

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**End.**

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For more drabble requests, questions, inspiration pics, and updates for this fic series, go to grizzly-bear-bane.tumblr.com


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